Someone To Watch His Back
by dart53
Summary: What does it take to train a gorilla leader?
1. Chapter 1

**Someone To Watch His Back**

Garrison was a misfit, perfect for this program and Catron knew it, he just had to convince the others who sat ranged around the table.

"He's a loner." Edgars complained. "You'll never get him to work with a team."

"We're looking for loners Colonel, the men we send in will be working on their own." Major Catron had been through the young mans record's and found it easy to understand why Cadet Garrison found it difficult to blend into a team, trust others to watch out for his welfare. The boy, and at nineteen he was still just a boy, hadn't experienced much that would lead him to believe there was any other way to survive.

"I don't trust him. Have you taken a good look at his background?"

"Yes, sir." He studied the square built officer that sat across the table from him. Colonel Patrick's son was part of the reason they were gathered around the table having this discussion. He and a band of his followers had taken it upon themselves to ferret out and harass cadets they deemed 'unworthy' of being at the military academy. It didn't take a very close look at the list of boys they targeted to know they were after the ones who weren't 'connected', who came from poor or foreign backgrounds. Garrison certainly fit their criteria. He didn't have a penny to his name and no family to speak of, unless someone wanted to count that officer out in the islands and he'd already contacted them and spoken to the wife. The youngster had been dropped in their laps 18 months before entering the academy, she hadn't had much to say about him other than she had arranged tutors for him at her husband's instructions and expense, but she'd given him an earful about having to change her plans to accommodate him while he studied. Apparently she hadn't heard from him since he wrote to tell her the last of their crates were being shipped to them at Hickam…and Catron could certainly understand the young man's reluctance to have much to do with her. He'd only been on the phone with her for twenty minutes and that had been enough, eighteen months must have been a nightmare. But he knew Patrick wasn't worried about that side of the family…

"I still don't see how we can trust him. I didn't want to accept his application in the first place and I haven't changed my opinion about him."

"Oh I don't know, Wooly." Brigadier General Jackman smiled as Colonel Patrick scowled down at the pen he'd been tapping on the table top… he'd hated that nickname from the time he'd picked it up here as a cadet, and Jackman, having bestowed it upon him, had used it to irritate him ever since then. "I know you have an obsession about the boys who have direct connections to Germany, but Cadet Garrison never tried to hide that. And you'll have to agree that his academic record here has been exemplary." Leaning back in his chair he continued. "It's true he has ties to the country, but I hardly think he'd go back there after living under the draconian conditions his grandfather imposed on him when he was a child. That may actually work to his advantage if we agree to hand him over to Major Catron here. He's certainly proved his ability to survive in difficult circumstances"

"I'm sorry, sir but I have to agree with Colonel Patrick." Arthur Connelly had been the head of the academy for the last five years and didn't think he'd come across a youngster more tightlipped. "Cadet Garrison has been uncooperative and refuses to give us any information about just what happened. The doctors couldn't get anything out of him, and he's even refused a direct order to divulge the circumstances surrounding his injuries."

Catron leaned forward to speak but Jackman cut him off and as he sat back the general made his point. It looked like Garrison had at least one other supporter at the table, he thought, even if he'd never know it. "And Cadet Captain Patrick has Garrison's stubbornness to thank for his continued career in the service. Wolford, what your boy and that crowd of his did to that kid was criminal, and the only thing that has stopped him from being bounced out of here on his ass is your rank and standing, and that goes for the rest of them. But let me put everyone at this table on notice, the time for turning a blind eye to the hazing and abuse that goes on here is at an end. One of these days the public is going to find out about it and shut this fine old institution down and that would be a damn shame. I'd much rather see an end to some of its baser traditions."

General Jackman turned his attention on the head of the academy next. "Just why would you expect him to tell you about what had happened to him and who'd done it Arthur? None of the other boys got any support when they tried it, none of them are still here, are they? And do you really think you want a man who would inform on his own side working undercover over there. I think the fact that you 'couldn't get anything out of him,' as you put it, is the very thing that commends him for this program." Turning he addressed himself directly to Major Catron. "Just what will this extra training consist of Major?"

"It's an intensive course, sir. They will be trained in lethal hand to hand combat with the emphasis on silent kill. The men will also get extra training in languages, advanced recon. Geography and the political conditions in the countries in which they'll be operating. Flight training, diving, free fall parachute techniques, costal navigation, winter survival skills, evasion, resistance…"

Interrupting Catron, the general turned to Colonel Patrick and brought up a warning finger. "Wooly you'd best tell Virgil it's a good thing this program wasn't authorized last year because if that kid had had all this training their little _interview_ under that tree might have had a very different outcome." After a moment an indignant Patrick finally dropped his gaze and the general returned his attention to Major Catron. "I understand this will be in addition to the regular class load and duty assignments."

"Yes, sir. With close to another year's concentrated instruction after they leave the academy."

"How will you explain the extra work while they're here?"

"It's been suggested that the instructors and cadets not directly involved in this be told that the participants are doing 'remedial' work with the instructors and drawing extra duty as punishment." Catron hadn't been pleased with that idea and his opinion was clearly evident in his voice.

Jackman rocked back in his chair, he didn't like the sound of that either. "That's not going to improve this particular young man's situation here at all."

Catron sat silently waiting. The suggestion had been a bad one, made by a man with the power to push it through, but the officer sitting across the table from him now could put an end to that, if he was perceptive enough… and from the look in his eye, the Major had no doubt about the conclusion the general would reach.

"Major, I suggest you let each cadet decide how they will explain the extra work they are doing… might be a good way to see how well they'll be able to cover themselves once they're on the job. As to the specialized training… the summer duty assignments should cover them. The boys will be ground into dust by the time they get back to the academy in the fall, but at least they won't have to deal with the stigma of being labeled 'underachievers'."

"Yes, sir." Satisfaction with that edict was evident when Major Catron looked up from his files. "Thank you, sir."

"Have you seen the medical reports? Are you sure he'll recover sufficiently to participate in this extra training of yours?"

Sorting through the reports Catron had in front of him he moved the medical department record on Cadet Garrison to the top of his stack and opened it. "Yes, sir. The doctors have approved him for this program, baring any unforeseen set backs of course. He should be ready when the new term begins."

"How many other cadets to you propose for this program, Major?" Colonel Patrick sat forward, a subtle air of eagerness about him.

The Major placed his hand on the stack of folders in front of him "We have our eye on several young men here at the academy, Colonel." Catron could see what was going on in the Colonel's mind… If this was a project the General was in favor of it wouldn't do the participant's careers any harm to be involved in it. He knew what the next thing out of that man's mouth was going to be.

"Sir, I might suggest that.."

"Forget it Wooly. I don't think Virgil has the right qualifications for something like this."

"But, sir…"

Turning on the head of the academy Jackman asked. "Arthur, can you tell us a little about Cadet Captain Patrick's standing at the academy?"

Connelly hesitated a moment before he answered. "Virgil Patrick is ranked in the middle of his class, sir. His work is,,, adequate."

"And has he had any particular trouble with any work assigned to him?" Jackman continued as he watched the father of the young man in question redden with anger and embarrassment.

"Languages, sir. And, ah,,," Connelly threw a look at Colonel Patrick. "I'm sorry Wolford… Sir, Cadet Patrick has been counseled on three separate occasions for his command methods."

"I think we'll just leave Virg out of this one Wooly." And after a moment Jackman softened, he had sons of his own. "Besides, I don't think the life expectancy of anyone of these young men is exactly what you are looking for, for your own boy."

ggg

"Garrison, you up for a visitor?" Major Catron waited patiently at the foot of the cadet's hospital bed for permission to move up and sit down. The eyes that considered him were wary but the face had quickly been schooled into a mask of neutrality.

'Here it comes,' he thought, 'This is where they tell me I'm no longer felt to be officer material and they kick me out of here.' Shoving himself up against the metal frame at the top of the bed he did his best to appear at attention while still remaining on his backsides. "Yes, sir."

Catron had gone over the medical reports with the doctor and knew that the 'mock interrogation' carried out by Patrick's group had stopped short of breaking anything, but he was certain every bone the young man possessed probably was loudly protesting his movement. He gave fleeting thought to ordering the boy to lie at ease but rejected it in favor of allowing him the dignity of his action. He settled on the chair and laid the file on his knees where it could easily be seen. "I understand you spent quite a bit of time over in Germany."

"Yes, sir. I would assume you'd understand that if you've read the file you're holding."

The Major smiled to himself and looked down at the folder in his lap. 'Very politely stated,' he thought. "Actually I've gone over this quite carefully. It's why I'm here."

There wasn't any point to explaining his family again to this man. He'd done it when he'd applied, he'd done it when he'd been accepted for testing, and again when he'd won the scholarship. He'd explained over and over again to every senior officer he'd come across at the academy, all of his instructors, and then found that there was a high percentage of the other cadets that constantly required an explanation of his background… He hadn't felt obligated to provide them with that information and had paid a price for it over the last almost two years. If they were going to kick him out they'd just have to do it without further explanation from him.

Catron waited to see if the young man had anything to say for himself, when he didn't take advantage of the opportunity he continued. "Garrison, I have a proposition for you."

g

Major Catron waited while the young man thought it over. Of all the cadets he'd offered this to Garrison seemed to be the only one who needed time to consider his answer, the others had either said yes, or no, on the spot. His immediate response to the delay had been to doubt his decision to make the position available to this youngster, but as he watched the possibilities light the hazel eyes, and then the smile that finally spread across the young man's face, he put aside his doubts and was ready when he got his answer.

"Yes, sir! When do I start?"

ggg

It was the hardest work he'd ever done, and the most satisfying. At least he was finally working towards something he was sure would make a difference. The last regular term of the year was busy with standard class work and the extra assignments the new project demanded. His time in hospital easily explained the need for tutors to 'help him catch up'. And no one questioned his requests for additional time in the gym or on the obstacle courses as he improved his physical condition that had 'deteriorated' during his enforced time in bed. As he stood at attention he breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Patrick's name was called during the graduation ceremony. He wouldn't always have to be looking over his shoulder now.

As soon as the ceremony ended Garrison headed for his quarters to pick up his gear. Summer duty assignment had him taking eight weeks basic flight training first. Catron told him that would continue through the rest of his time at the academy, during the free weekends, time the other cadets were allowed to visit with friends or family, or just relax off the academy grounds. He'd continue flying during the several months they'd be in Georgia and they'd get him qualified in as many planes as they could. They'd ship him up to Alaska for the last few weeks of summer and start the more intensive mountaineering and winter survival training. When he got back to the Point in the fall he'd work diving into his schedule as an 'extracurricular' activity. He wouldn't have any need of German language classes so they were going to set him up as a tutor for another cadet in the program. Collin Jamieson was fluent in Italian but spoke no German, they'd trade knowledge and support on this, and the advanced hand to hand combat training they'd be getting from Captain Bowles, one of the few instructors who were participants in the program. Catron would be there at the beginning of every term to review their progress and decide on the next assignment, his presence explained as a career advisor.

ggg

Jackman had been right. The cadets attached to the program were ground to dust when they returned from their summer duty assignments. All of them were thinner, more intense and Garrison was, if possible, quieter. He'd spent the last two weeks in Alaska making his way back to base from where they'd dropped him in the wilderness, alone. Connelly still wasn't sure about having this cadet in the program. He had him brought to his office so they could discuss his future together. The young man didn't seem disturbed by the length of time he'd been kept standing at attention in front of the academy director's desk.

"You do realize that you can take yourself out of this program whenever you wish?"

"Yes, sir. Major Catron explained that." He held his gaze straight ahead, his voice level.

"Are you still determined to do this?"

"Sir, may I ask a question?"

Connelly leaned back in his chair and studied the cadet in front of him a moment before he answered. "Go ahead, Cadet Garrison, you have my permission."

Why don't you want me in this project?

"I'm not sure your background…."

"Sir, my 'background' is what makes me perfect for it. I've been there. I can tell you what's coming." The eyes that lowered to meet his own held him by their intensity as the quiet voice continued. "Sir, I can get in and out and get what they need done. And, as has been explained to me in the past, I'm not connected. I'm not going to be missed when I go undercover. No one's going to have to come up with any story to explain why I don't show up at 'mom's' Christmas table, or stop sending 'sis' birthday cards."

"Major Catron prep you with that argument, Cadet Garrison?"

"No, sir. I came up with it all by myself. Is that all, sir?"

Connelly raised an eyebrow at the dismissal he'd just received from the underclassman. He supposed he deserved that, but he kept the cadet at attention several more minutes before waving him out of the office. Stubborn son of bitch, he thought with a laugh, it was going to be interesting to keep an eye on his progress.

ggg

"Garrison we're going to lose people. Men are going to get killed, I thought you understood that when you signed on to this project."

"I accept that Colonel, and so did Lieutenant Jamieson." Garrison stopped his pacing and came to rest in front of the Colonel's desk. "What I don't accept is that it could have been prevented with a little more ground work and no one took the time to do it. Collin was a good man, Colonel Catron, he shouldn't have been wasted."

"And he was a friend of yours." The colonel understood and he knew it was eating at the young man that he wouldn't even be allowed to contact his friend's family to explain what had happened to him.

"Yes, sir. He was." All of them were, Garrison thought, and he'd lost too many of them already.


	2. Chapter 2

ggg

As they made their way through the additional training the program required the cadets involved in the project found each other. Catron told them at the outset that he had no intension of creating a special group out of them. He didn't want them marked out to the other cadets by any means. He'd elected not to even introduce them to one another, knowing the attrition rate would be high and peer pressure would make it harder for a cadet to withdraw. This was strictly a volunteer operation. But there had been pairings, like Garrison and Jamieson, and the men were assigned the same advanced class work, and found themselves at the same summer duty posts. By the time graduation had come the twenty young men that comprised the first year of the project were well known to one another, as were the sixteen who'd withdrawn.

As soon as the ceremony ended Garrison headed to his quarters to pick up his gear. The last phase of training was due to start in twenty four hours, he had to be at the airfield by twenty-one hundred and he figured he'd use the time and clean out his room and leave it ready for the next 'firstie' to move in. He was intent on going through his papers and didn't hear Collin come in three hours later.

"Top of the class! Garrison, you're going to end up a general." he got a snorted laugh as his response. "I've got tradition on my side, boy. You just go look at the roster of previous graduates and see what happened to them. Mark my words, there's stars in your future."

Garrison moved the stack he'd been going through to the basket he was going to take down to the incinerator. The books he'd managed to purchase over the years were already boxed up, director Collins would see that they were contributed to the next, 'dirt poor' cadet that came in to the academy. "Knock it off, Collin. Where we're going, we'll be lucky if we make it past first Lieutenant."

Collin laughed, that was the big draw back. With no one allowed to know what they were doing, none of them would get credit for their work when they dropped them in Europe and their advancement through the ranks would suffer.

"I thought you'd spend the last evening with your parents."

"We had dinner together. I decided it was easier to leave them at the restaurant than go home with them." Collin stretched out on the bed and watched Garrison work through another stack of papers. "Emily asked about you, Craig. She expected you." Jamieson watched as his friend stopped what he was doing and sat staring at his own reflection in the darkened glass of the window. "All you have to do is ask Craig, you know that."

Garrison turned his back on Jamieson for a moment and took a deep breath before he swung back around to face him. "I can't Collin. Seventy percent?! Catron said if we're lucky only seventy percent will… It's not fair. I can't do that to her."

Jamieson rolled to his feet and stood with his hand on Garrison's shoulder. "I know. But she still doesn't understand why you're going without a word." He gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze and left to attend to his own packing. When he'd introduced Craig to his younger sister on one of their scarce free weekends he'd had no idea they'd hit it off. At first he'd watched the growing relationship with brotherly amusement, but, as their training continued he came to the same conclusion Garrison had. It wasn't fair to any young woman to tie her to a relationship almost guaranteed to end in disaster. As much as he'd come to like Craig, as much as he knew he and Emily would be good together, he had listened to Catron's estimates of their survival rates too. Thirty percent survival rate…. he had no desire to see his sister a widow. He knew leaving was going to be as hard on Craig as it was on Emily and he'd come to trust Garrison enough to let him make his own decision about what to do about letting his sister know.

g

If they thought the extra training at the academy had been hard they'd decided it was only because none of them possessed a clear understanding, or had a concise definition of the word. The last phase of training built on what they'd experienced at the academy and during their summer duty assignments, but it was much more intense, and seemed directed at driving the men into the ground. The only advantage now was they didn't have to expend any energy on keeping what they were doing secret. And it was a good thing, as not one of them had one ounce of extra energy to spare.

"I do believe Sergeant Holke is deriving too much enjoyment from this latest round of training exercises." Collin took the ice pack he'd just created and laid it gently across Craig's throat where the swelling seemed to be the most severe. Unless it was down right life threatening they were expected to treat their own, good practice in first aid Catron told them, and Garrison had done as much for him. "Why didn't you take the bastard down when you had the chance?"

Garrison glared at him for a moment before he tried to answer and then his words came in a forced whisper. "I tried damn it! Didn't you notice all the padding he's got protecting him?"

Jamieson sat back and laughed. "Just goes to prove how afraid he really is." If looks could kill, he thought, I'd be dead right now. "I just wish I could master that move."

Craig held the ice pack to his throat as he rolled up to sit on the edge of the cot and eyed the other young man. "I know you're not going to expect to attempt it on me."

Collin snorted, "Well, you could use some practice countering the it."

"I know how to counter it, but pistols are only allowed on the firing range, and they lock the knives up after we finish practicing, remember?"

Garrison swayed a moment as he stood, Jamieson reached out to steady him. "Come on, friend, let's get over there before all that delicious soup is gone and you have to starve again today." Collin laughed at the look that earned him. All of them had questioned the vast amount of soup provided by the camp cooks when they first arrived. That was before they'd started getting the crap beaten out of them, before they'd been unable to chew and swallow, or digest much of anything else…. Now those three big pots of soup made perfect sense.

When they reached the mess tent Collin left him at one of the tables while he went about gathering their food. The tray he brought back fulfilled two distinctly different dietary requirements. Bowls of everything soft or liquid were placed on the table in front of him… the plates heaped with steak and onions, potatoes and vegetables landed in front of his good friend. Jamieson adopted an innocent look to counter his black gaze. "Hey, don't look at me like that. That's just what you brought me last week, isn't it?" Nudging Garrison's shoulder he urged. "Come on, eat up. Speaking from personal experience it'll help if you swallow it down while it's still warm."

Collin was right and Craig had managed to get a version of his voice back by the end of the meal. They were just finishing up when a deep voice sounded behind them, causing them both to stiffen. "Enjoying our dinner, are we?" and two more bowls were lowered into view by two very large hands. "Don't forget dessert, you two need a little fattening up." The two young men at the table shared a long look before twisting around to look up at their training sergeant. The Sergeant had explained it to them when they'd first arrived, his express purpose in life was to weed out of the program anyone not strong enough to make it through to completion. Sergeant Holke, Hulk as he was known to his victims, at 6'7" and 260 pounds of pure muscle and evil intent, seemed more than adequate to the task and they could understand the need, they just didn't appreciate the delight he seemed to take from his work...

"Thank you, Sergeant Holke." The two young men spoke as one, if the quality of their voices hadn't been so different a blind man listening would have thought there was only one there speaking. It was no wonder they'd mastered the art of synchronized speaking, especially of that particular line. They'd certainly had enough chance to practice it over the months. Every time he gave them a new bit of information, every time he taught them a new move, every time he laid them flat on their backs or stopped short of tearing some important body part off during training they'd been required to thank him for his consideration…. It was tradition, and Major Catron assured them they'd come to actually mean it before they left here… if they didn't wash out, and if the Sergeant allowed them to live.

g

"What are you doing?" Collin was dead tired and knew Craig had to be too. He'd tried to go to sleep but the incessant grating noise from the other side of their small tent bored into his brain and wouldn't let him rest.

"Improvising. Go back to sleep."

"I can't, you're making too much noise." Collin didn't see the pillow arc across the room in the darkness but immediately knew its intent when he snatched it off his face. Turning on his side he clamped it over his ear and went blissfully to sleep. If Craig wanted to dig an escape tunnel in his spare time that was his business.

g

Training at the camp was set up in blocks. The length of the block was determined by the complexity of the training. The current block was set at five days. The men were given five days to learn and counter the moves the sergeants were teaching them and then they'd move on. Those who couldn't master the skills would be given another opportunity and they weren't actually expected to master all of them, but an account was being kept, anyone with too many misses would be dropped from the program. Garrison was in his last day of his current five day block with Sergeant Holke. He was fast on his feet and quick to learn, but Holke's longer reach and greater weight seemed to work against him as the sergeant took him down time and again.

He was laid out on his back again, bruised and bleeding from the exercise, eyes closed, gasping for breath as Holke stood over him and finally decided to take pity on him and call a halt. He reached down to help the young officer to his feet and the next thing he knew he was being turned every which way but loose. After the initial shock wore off the sergeant fought in earnest to control the situation and was surprised to find himself on the loosing end of that deal too. He managed to spin out of the other man's hold and get away, and had just turned to launch his next attack when he felt a blow to his chest. Surprised again, as Garrison was standing at least a dozen feet away from him, Holke took a moment to glance down and stood transfixed as he considered the thing projecting from the padding that encased him.

The sergeant pulled the object free from where it still vibrated and eyed the modifications that had been made to one of the camp spoons. Careful consideration had been given to the thickness of the safety gear that protected him, the weapon had been ground down to fall a quarter inch short of finding his flesh. Holke rested the shiv on his finger where it balanced nicely… 'Good job,' he thought, 'and we haven't even started on creation of weapons.' He raised his head to look at the young man who stood balanced on the balls of his feet across from him…Garrison had gone from exhausted wreck, to fresh as a daisy, and smiled a challenge back at him while he waited.

Sergeant Holke shook his head, there wasn't any point, the lesson had been learned, and then some. Though at this moment he wasn't quiet sure who the teacher had been. He tossed the weapon carefully back to its maker and stood silent a moment before calling across to him… "Thank you, Lieutenant Garrison." and turned to leave.

It wasn't until he'd gotten back in the locker room to change that he'd realized the extent of the danger he'd been in. The padded armor he wore was slashed in half a dozen different places. The one that caused him the most concern ran right across his throat, but a thorough investigation of the damaged showed all of the gashes missed penetrating by that same quarter inch. Holke took a rather longer than average shower, and when he arrived in his quarters he found a selection of seven deftly manufactured weapons tied neatly with a ribbon resting on his pillow. It took him a moment before he recognized the decoration as coming from the only box of cigars the camp commander possessed.

g

The joke as the group completed their training was that they would be the first thing shipped over under the new Lend Lease Act. They weren't far from wrong. A month later they had their orders and were preparing to leave under a cloak of secrecy. The twenty men that had arrived for training had been paired down to fifteen. Three had washed out, one had requested transfer and one had been injured too badly during training to continue. They were leaving a larger camp behind them, the place was full of regular Army troops now, receiving specialized training along the lines of the British commando forces. Their group might be the first on the ground in Europe, and there was one more group coming along behind them, but these would be the men who'd lead the troops in when war was declared and the assault on Europe began.

Jamieson checked the gear for the last time before he tossed it onto the truck. They were due at the field in half an hour, where in the hell was he? Showing Garrison that letter had been a mistake, he'd known it when he did it last night and he'd done it anyway. He was just beginning to realized why he hadn't kept it to himself, he was hoping Craig would pull out, request a transfer to a regular unit so he could go back home. Collin gave a derisive snort, he should've known Garrison'd never change once he set his sights on something, but he had to try for Emily's sake. They hadn't been barred from contact with their families, the mail had just been sent through a series of drops and dead ends so that no one would be able to figure out where they were. The mail out was censored, and the men were careful not to include anything about their location or the specialized training they were receiving, but incoming mail came through untouched. He'd let Craig read the letters from his folks, and read parts of Emily's letters to him. But that last one from her, he just dropped that one on the bunk and walked out to let him see for himself how much she still missed him, how she still struggled to understand what she'd done to drive him away. Collin squinted against the sun as he scanned the area. Maybe he'd read him wrong. He'd left it too long, Garrison couldn't put in a request now. As the shout for them to load onto the truck that would take them out to the air field came he hoped Craig hadn't gone AWOL.

Collin was the last to board. He couldn't understand why there hadn't been uproar over the missing man. 'Maybe he did get to the base commander,' he thought as he climbed the stairs into the plane, 'maybe he got himself out of this.' It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the subdued light of the plane's interior, shaking his head he shouldered his way to the back and dropped into a seat. "Where in the Hell have you been?!"

Garrison continued to stare out the window. "You have to ask for an outside line to get a call off the base."

Jamieson nearly choked and he leaned in close and dropped his voice. "So you left the base without permission! Are you nuts? What if you'd been caught?!"

Craig turned and looked at the man who sat next to him for a moment before he raised an eyebrow and answered. "After what we've just been through do you actually think any one of _them _is capable of catching any one of _us_?"

Collin reached out and snatched Garrison's cap from his head so he'd get the full benefit of the thunk he gave him when he flicked the side of his head with his finger. "Don't get cocky!" He considered the back of his friend's head as he turned away from him to continue his study of the airfield outside the window. He knew where he'd gone and why, and he knew his part in it. "What'd you tell her?"

"That she was a very nice kid, and I'd enjoyed paling around with her and Jeremy." Collin could imagine how Emily would take to being lumped together with their twelve year old sibling. Craig turned back, and he waited for him to finish. "I told her I'd found a girl she'd really like, Collin. I told her I couldn't wait to introduce her, that I thought they'd be good friends…"

"What'd she say?"

Garrison shrugged as he turned back to his window. "Don't know,.. She hung up on me."

"There he is!" The shout went up just as the door to the plane was pulled to and locked closed. Faces filled the windows. He wouldn't be able to hear them over the roar of the engines but they all shouted it any way… in perfect unison. "THANK YOU, SERGEANT HOLKE!"

Jamieson grabbed the back of Craig's collar and pulled him out of the way as he scrambled over him to get in position. They'd all talked about this, planned it, threaten it, but he'd bet his last dollar he was the only one who'd taken steps to see it through. He could still hear the others swearing and fumbling with their belts and zippers as he dropped his trousers and pirouetted neatly to present his final salute to Sergeant Hulk by mooning him just as the plane pulled out.

"Shit! That's not something I ever want to see again!" Garrison laughed as he struggled to make his way up from the floor between the seats. "I think you've caused me to go blind!"


	3. Chapter 3

ggg

"Sir, it took you three years to train us to do this and thirty seconds for Collin to bleed out in my arms. I don't think that's a very good return on your investment."

"What do you think was missing over there?"

"A network of contacts. It's not enough for us to get in and get the information you want." Garrison ran an hand through his hair and sat rubbing the back of his neck a moment before he continued. "If we can't get out it doesn't do you any good."

"We have contact with resistance leaders in the area."

"Nothing organized. And from what I can tell most of them don't know each other, so we're still on our own if we need to move across country. Forget about bringing people out without an established series of safe houses and escape routes." Garrison knew that would be part of this project eventually. They'd gotten in and observed, memorized documents they'd managed to get their hands on, even taken pictures of a few with the new cameras they'd been issued. They'd brought the information out, a lot of it over the last seven months, but now that America and Germany were finally, officially, at war there was a mad scramble to get the people who'd left it too late out of Europe before the Germans laid hands on them. And for some reason, known only to the American and British brass, they hadn't been allowed to spend enough time on the ground in Europe setting up escape routes, establishing codes and cross contacts with the locals. That's why Collin was dead, because they didn't have a secondary route of escape.

"Sounds like you've just found your next assignment, Lieutenant… if you want it?" Catron watched as Garrison mastered his anger, and wondered if he'd voice it. It wouldn't do any good to feed the kid the official line about not wanting to leave anyone over there long enough to get themselves picked up and executed as a spy… He was too intelligent to believe that one. They had men in place, some of them had been in Germany for years, patiently working their way into positions of authority and trust. No, they might have spent three years training these men for their assignments, but that was nothing compared to the time and effort that had gone into those ghosts…. That's why these kids were expendable, to keep the heat off the others they'd never know anything about.

"Yes, sir. I want it. And with your permission I'd like to get started right away."

"Don't you think you need to take a little time before you go back over there, son. You're going to be gone a long time on this one."

"Sir, we don't have any more of that time, you're trying to hand me, to waste." Garrison got up and started towards the door. He had his assignment, he'd leave with or without permission, he had his own way across the channel and Colonel Catron knew it.

"Who're you taking over with you?" Catron called out as Garrison's hand grasped the door knob and turned it.

The Lieutenant never broke stride. "No one! I'm working alone from now on."

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Three months later the system worked, at least good enough for his new orders to reach him. He certainly hadn't been the only one working. The brass had finally turned the rest of them loose and they'd crossed paths as they worked, weaving their safety and information net together. Catron's estimate had been accurate, of the fifteen that shipped over only four of them were left. He worked with the others briefly, usually only a matter of days, but held to his determination to remain alone on the ground in Europe. Jamieson had turned to cover him when they'd gotten caught, Craig had the better memory, he was carrying the information they'd been sent for. Collin had taken a bullet so he could get away to complete the mission, he'd never forget that, and he'd never allow anyone else to make that sacrifice for him again.

Garrison didn't know what the Army had planned for him next. All he knew was that he was exhausted, and he'd been ordered back to England. He was ready. The people he'd met and worked with in France and Germany were already expanding the network, making their own contacts, it was a living breathing entity now, no one could stop it. He'd be glad to deliver this particular report to Colonel Catron.

g

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, didn't you know? Colonel Catron was killed in one of the bombing raids on London. He's been dead for two months now. You'll be reporting to Major Manners from now on."

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The general had been at it all day. Going over efficiency reports was not his favorite duty, but since his heart attack they'd assigned gathering information on the joint operation to him. It was either that, or retirement, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sit in the sun and drink tea while the world went up in smoke. He took what they offered him and did his best not to envy the others who would play a more active part in the war that his country was finally embroiled in. A disturbance in the passageway outside provided him with an excellent excuse to take a break from the boring task of paper pushing. He shoved his chair back and made his way across the office and opened the door.

"Hut-tenshun!"

There was a gathering of three men in the hall. Jackman looked down at a British lieutenant who was sprawled on his backsides on the floor just six feet from where he stood. The man was gingerly massaging his jaw and staring at another young lieutenant who stood over him. The faded bruises on the young American's face gave evidence that this wasn't the first fight he'd been in this week, and while not overtly threatening, the man on his feet certainly appeared ready to counter any move from his opponent… 'Victim,' Jackman amended the thought, and smiled to himself. This was totally out of order and against regulations, but it was certainly more interesting than the dry reports that had taken up his time since he'd arrived in England three weeks ago.

The lieutenant on the ground scrambled to his feet and the whole sorry group stood eyes forward, ramrod straight and perfectly silent.

"Anyone of you gentleman want to tell me just what's going on here?" Jackman asked pleasantly.

"Lieutenant Garrison just tried to take my head off, sir." the 'injured party' volunteered immediately.

'Garrison?' the general thought, 'why does that name sound so familiar?' "Garrison, care to tell me why you'd want to do something like that?"

"No, sir."

Jackman raised his eyebrows and looked at the young officer standing at attention in front of him. "You know you could be brought up on charges for this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you take the same action, given another opportunity?"

There was a slight delay as the young man considered his answer. "Yes, sir. I would."

By this time two MP's arrived, summoned by the staff sergeant in charge of keeping order. "All right." Jackman sighed and shook his head, at least the kid was honest. "Take him away."

The young man made a crisp salute, a perfect about face, and flanked by the two MP's started away down the corridor. Jackman turned on his heel to return to his reports when it dawned on him and he made the connection. He swung back just in time to see the prisoner fall flat on his face in the hall.

"Stand back!" The MP's gave way as the general dropped down next to the young man on the floor. He felt the irregular padding as he laid his hand on the Lieutenant's back. Pulling the tail of the shirt free and shoving it up out of the way Jackman revealed the bandages, soiled now from being in place several days. "Good Gawd! Get this man to the infirmary. What's the meaning of this?" Jackman stared up at the men who were gathered around him. "Why was this man here instead of with the doctors?"

"Sir! I had no idea, sir." Captain Klinner stammered.

Fixing the lieutenant who had so recently been seated on the floor with an icy gaze the general demanded. "And what were you doing right before he laid you on your backsides?"

"We'd just completed the debriefing, sir." Byrns answered.

"I didn't ask you that Lieutenant. I assume that sort of thing takes place behind closed doors, not out in the hallway!"

"Yes, sir."

Jackman's attention was broken by the sound of men moving towards them with a litter. He pushed back up to his feet and drew the others out of the way with a wave of his hand. "You two'd best come along with me. I think I need to hear the full story."

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"You did what?!" Jackman thought he might just need to have this whole thing explained to him more than once.

Klinner took a deep breath and answered. "We arranged to have Lieutenant Garrison carry information into Germany…."

"That you wanted the German's to take from him…" the general supplied.

"Yes, sir."

"But you didn't bother to tell him that?"

"Well, no sir. It was decided they would swallow the bait if…"

"…they had to beat it out of someone?!" Jackman got up and started pacing the office, reaching the window he stared out across the compound for a moment before turning back to gaze at the three officers he had standing at attention in front of his desk. Manners, the section head had been added to the assembly. "And just what did you say to him in the hallway that set him off?"

"Sir," Lieutenant Byrns swallowed hard before he continued. "I just reiterated Captain Klimmer's comment that if he had done as we expected we wouldn't have to mount this next operation…." He could only hold the general's gaze a moment before he dropped his eyes to study the floor at his feet. "…sir."

Jackman leaned back against the window sill pulled on an earlobe and shook his head in amazement. "So you mean to tell me that you sent that kid over there hoping that he'd break and spill his guts to the German's, and then you _reprimanded_ him when he didn't?!" He took a deep breath before he continued, "Son, you're lucky all he did was knock you down, because I would've killed you." Turning on Major Manners he asked. "Why'd you pick Garrison for this little comedy of yours."

"Well, sir, he…"

"I know, I know," Jackman said, shaking his head in disgust and waving the other man silent. "I've heard it before. He's nobody, and he's not connected to anyone important, so it would be a more 'acceptable' loss." The general studied the men a moment before returning to settle himself in the chair behind the desk. "Gentlemen, if that's still how it works, then you consider Lieutenant Garrison is connected,,, to me!"

"Yessir!" the three men chorused.

"Major, I want the book on Garrison," he tapped his finger on the desk in from of him. "Right here, right now."

"Yes, sir."

"And call over to the medical unit and have those MP's stand down." When Lieutenant Byrns showed further bad judgment by opening his mouth to object he cut him off. "Lieutenant I'd like to give you a little something to think about."

"Yes, sir?"

"That soldier you challenged in the hallway this morning knows about twenty different ways to kill a man with those hands. So if you only ended up with a sore jaw, and a little bruised dignity, you should count yourself extremely lucky."

Byrns was an administrative aid, a desk jockey. If he'd ever known anything about combat or field work, or the men who did it, he'd forgotten it as soon as he sat down and got comfortable behind his typewriter. By the way the color left his face Jackman knew he hadn't really considered that before he'd made his comment to Garrison. "Yes, sir."

"Manners, see to those MP's"

"Yes, sir. I'll take care of it at once, sir." Manners turned and started shepherding the other two out the door.

"And Major, one more thing."

"Sir?"

"I'm going over there later, and if that young man has not been given the very best care available, I'm going to break you, and everyone on your staff." Jackman said quietly.

"Yes, sir."

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"Tell me what really happened." The general had already heard the bare bones of 'I lost my temper and took a swing at Lieutenant Bryns,,, sir.' Knowing a little bit more about the circumstances surrounding the altercation he wanted the young man's version of the whole affair. He waited, and watched the stubbornness settle firmly on Garrison's face. "Lieutenant, that was an order. Consider this a continuation of your debriefing."

"Sir, I can see your rank but…"

"Go on, you have my permission to speak freely."

"Thank you, sir. I can see your rank, but I don't know who in the hell you are, what section you belong to, or what your security clearance is,,, sir."

The general smiled to himself, "In other words, 'request denied'?"

"Yes, sir."

Jackman leaned back in his chair tugged on his earlobe and considered the young man in the bed a moment before he got up and walked over to the door. Pulling it open he called down the hallway. "Would you have Major Manners come over from the admin building, please." Returning to the chair the general settled in to watch the young man while they waited. He met the hazel eyes and fought a silent duel for a time, finally giving way by looking at his watch… the kid had guts, he'd give him that.

Upon arrival Garrison's section head quickly explained who Jackman was, and gave his exasperated permission for the young Lieutenant to deliver any information required of him before being 'invited' to leave by the general. Jackman was amused and pleased to see a recitation of his rank and credentials didn't seem to impress the young man much.

"So, Lieutenant, can you tell me what happened?

"Yes, sir. Someone hung me out to dry."


	4. Chapter 4

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The discussion that followed was heated at times and Jackman found that he enjoyed every minute of it. It was sad to say but after you reached a certain rank in this man's Army people were afraid to tell you what they thought when things went wrong before they had a firm take on your own opinion…. The young officer leaning forward on the bed making his case so persuasively hadn't seemed to have learned that yet. He'd told his general just what went wrong and just what he thought about it. And taking Jackman's 'you may speak freely' literally, he told the general in accurate anatomical detail just what those individuals involved might do with themselves. Jackman turned away to hide a smile and bought himself some time by pouring a glass of water.

Garrison relaxed back on the bed a moment before he continued. "That scam would have worked if I'd gone in prepared."

"What do you mean?"

"That if Captain Klinner had just told me ahead of time, I could've come up with a story the German's would've believed, and they would have swallowed the_ dis_-information he was so eager to feed them"

"He probably didn't think anyone could carry that off." The general took a sip from his glass and studied the young man in front of him. "I don't think I believe it either."

"Then let me go back and I'll prove it to you."

Jackman leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his jaw on his fist. "When would you want to do it?"

"As soon as I can get back over there." Garrison winced as he leaned back in the bed. He'd been beaten by hand so he was bruised and sore around the midsection and ribs. And the interrogator favored the strap, doubled over so it made a lot of noise, and had used it freely across his back and shoulders. The man had been an arrogant bastard who enjoyed his work. That had been his undoing. He thought he'd beaten his prisoner down. He thought he was good enough that he didn't need a guard after he'd 'conditioned' him. When one of his blows knocked Garrison off his feet, he made the fatal mistake of reaching down to haul him up again. 'Thank you Sergeant Holke' Craig thought to himself.

"In your condition? I hardly think the doctors would clear you for something like that."

"Sir, I'm fine. My injuries aren't that bad. And they'd give me a damn good reason for getting recaptured."

"Are you really willing to let yourself be taken and interrogated again, Lieutenant?"

"If it'll meet our objectives, yes, sir." There was a glint in the young officer's eye as he continued. "Just don't expect me to accept their 'hospitality' too long, sir, because you _will _be disappointed."

The young man in front of him looked like the only place he needed to be for the next two weeks was right where he was. Jackman didn't see how he'd be able to pull off what he was suggesting, but he had a growing feeling that he was going to do it with or without permission. The general gave a fleeting thought to having the MP's back to keep Garrison in his room. Another look at the determined set of eyes gazing back at him and he gave up on that idea. "Are you so sure you'll be able to get away from them?"

"General, I did before…. And this time I'll have help."

The doctors hadn't agreed with Lieutenant Garrison's assessment of his condition and abilities when Jackman asked that he be released to return to light duty in the section, and informed them _both_ that he would be staying until they thought him fit for duty and released him.

The young man considered the door that had just closed on the doctor a moment before turning to General Jackman. "Sir, do I have your permission to handle this in my own way?"

g

The cry that went up when Garrison was found missing from his hospital bed later in the day made the grumbling about him after he struck Lieutenant Bryns seem cordial and supportive in comparison. Jackman held his tongue and did his best to go along with the advice the Lieutenant had given him when he dropped the clothes the young man requested he retrieve for him from his locker on his bed. 'Just go along with it, sir. Whatever happens. It'll keep you out of trouble.' But he thought to himself that the kid might just as well stay over there if he couldn't pull this off. The most widely held explanation among the officers with the clearance to know his background for what had happened to him was that he'd bolted for his family home in Germany. One man suggested that if Garrison hadn't turned coat and taken up with the other side, at least if the Germans caught him they'd save the Army the trouble of a court marshal.

g

The hardest part had been getting his back _not_ to look like it had just been taken care of by a hospital full of doctors. Garrison and Claude used an old sheet they'd found for bandages. Blown off the line on some forgotten wash day it had spent its recent life hiding under the bushes that had grown up around the abandoned farmhouse they were using and was suitably soiled and tattered. Craig spent as much time as he could down in the stream letting the water run over the crusted wounds to soften them, then after Claude helped him 'suit up' he'd taken a few somersaulting rolls down the hill behind the house to freshen everything up and get a little bleeding started. By the next morning he looked, and felt, like he'd been on the run for two or three days.

They made their way back to the edge of town where he'd been taken before and waited until he spotted one of the guards who'd been involved in his original capture. As Claude faded back into the alley he moved forward to stand at the corner of the building. "Come on, you bastard. Look over here." Just as the whispered request left his lips the guard turned his gaze towards the alley and before he could get a good look at him Garrison made his move. Staggering back he pulled the metal trash bin he'd been leaning against over with a clatter. That ought to do it, he thought, and waited for the expected response of raised rifles and a shout for him to stand where he was. He cringed against the building and put his hands up and tried to look as tired and hunted as he could. He didn't have to fake the shakes and the Germans could interpret them however they wished, it was damn cold under all the wet clothes and bandages.

The German sergeant recognized him. And judging by his rough handling of him he hadn't been amused by what had happened to the officer his prisoner had last been seen with. Craig leaned into the furthest corner of the truck and thought he could've skipped those sacrificial rolls down that hill. The man had done a fine job of opening everything up, and he even added a split lip and a blackening eye of his own. If they didn't get where they were going soon he wasn't going to be in any shape to pull this off. The truck rattled to a stop just as the sergeant's fists had had enough rest and he'd gotten to his feet again. Again the look on his face told Garrison he hadn't been satisfied with his level of punishment yet but he wasn't quite prepared for the stinging backhand the man delivered as he grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him forward to manhandle him off the truck.

The niceties had been skipped and he'd been taken straight to an interrogation room. The Germans already thought they knew who they were dealing with and the Major that stood in front of him was eager to get down to business.

"I know you speak German, but I refuse to sully my countries language by using it with a spy. You will condemn yourself in your own mongrel tongue." Then he'd stepped back and for the next thirty minutes he let the sergeant continue what he'd started in the truck while he lounged against the wall and smoked.

Pushing off the wall the officer waved the sergeant back and considered his prisoner a moment. "Now that you have experienced a little of Sergeant Reischal's brand of questioning would you care respond to mine?" When his request was met with silence he shrugged and returned to his wall. "You are making a grave error my friend, I assure you. Reischal, Fahren Sie fort."

By the end of the day Garrison was battered and exhausted. He'd let them loosen his tongue enough to give up his name, rank and serial number, over and over and over again. By the end of the evening all Reischal had to do was raise his hand to start him reciting. The Major had finally grown bored and had him thrown in a darkened cell to 'consider his options until tomorrow.' Craig huddled in the corner on the floor and tried to get a little rest. Tomorrow would probably come pretty early.

'Tomorrow' began in the dark hours before dawn. Three guards came for him and marched him back to the interrogation room where the Major waited. The chair he'd been strapped to the previous day was gone, instead they hustled him over to the wall and slipped the handcuffs he'd worn since he'd been captured over a hook that projected well over his head. The Major sat his coffee down on the table that rested in the corner of the room and strolled over, grabbing a handful of his hair he jerked his head back so he could stare him in the eye. "Have you decided to speak to me yet?" When Garrison let silence answer for him the Major pushed his head forward with enough force to stun him when it hit the wall in front of him. "I thought not." The man said in disgust. "I shall return after I have had my breakfast and see if you have changed your mind." Slamming the door as he moved through into the hall the Major left him to consider his situation. The hook was high enough he had to stretch up onto his toes to keep pressure off the raw skin that encircled his wrists. Altogether not a very comfortable position.

Breakfast must have been a leisurely affair on this post, he thought, they left him on his hook for two hours. At the sound of footsteps and murmured conversation outside the door he sagged and they found him hanging from the cuffs when the door opened on him again.

He didn't respond as he heard a man walk up behind him. A handful of his hair was grabbed again and his head pulled back so he and the Major could face one another. "Well, what is your decision?"

"Garrison, Lieutenant…." He didn't get a chance to finish before the German officer dashed his head against the wall and turned away.

"Wie Sie wünschen!" The table creaked as the Major rested his weight against it. "An Ihrem Vergnügen, Reischal."

It was going about as he expected. Now the belt would come out. Craig had planned it out, how many blows he thought he could take before he hooked the Major, and he waited for the sergeant to step up and pull the shirt open down his back so he could make a good job of it. The pile driver blow Reischal delivered to the area over his kidneys came as a complete surprise. The fact that it was followed immediately by another one left him little time to decide on his next move. He pulled his chin down and mumbled, just loud enough he hoped the sound would carry across the room. Reischal struck again and Garrison felt his ribs go.

"Schritt zurück." As the sergeant moved out of the way the Major stepped up and pulled his head back again. "Did you say something?"

"Jamieson, Captain, 0357829."

That's the worst of it, Garrison thought to himself as the sergeant hoisted him by his belt and pulled his arms up to release him from his pinion on the wall. Reischal let him fall into a heap on the floor at his feet, and gave him a little friendly encouragement with the toe of his boot to get him started on the process of getting to his feet again. The party moved down the hall into an office that was a little more comfortable, for the Major. His own accommodation was another set of straps and a hard backed wooden chair with a very bright, very hot lamp shinning down on it.

Craig let them spend the rest of the morning convincing him to give them the information he was carrying. As he recited the last set of numbers recounting the availability of US troops and the speed with which they could be in Great Britain he hoped he'd read the political situation correctly. If he was wrong he was probably enjoying his last moments on earth.

The Major sat back in his chair and gave a satisfied grunt of pleasure. "Well done Captain Jamieson." He took the last drag off his current cigarette and leaned forward to stub it out in the metal cup on the desk. "I suppose you know what we do with spies, Captain? We shoot them in the street like the dogs that they are, and we leave the bodies for the birds and vermin to feed on." He reached into his tunic pocket for his cigarettes and the sergeant stepped forward to light the one he brought to his lips. Turning his gaze back on his captive he considered him through the smoke. "But you have told me a very entertaining tale and I'm sure my superiors in Berlin would be amused if you could tell it to them in person. So I think, my friend, you and I will take a little trip."

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As the prisoner was thoroughly cowed, no additional guards had been detailed to go along. Sergeant Reischal rode in front with the driver, the Major lounged in the comfortable back seat, and Garrison sat huddled miserably in the corner, as far as he could get from the man. The car made its way through the streets of the town and finally turned down a secondary road that connected to the one that ran along the river and would take them out to the main highway. Just before they pulled to the intersection a truck swerved around the corner, causing the driver to pull sharply to the side to avoid a collision. The two vehicles came to a stop with the Major's car pinned in, the truck had forced them over the curb and too close to the wall of the building for the doors to open, and its rear prevented them from moving forward. Two men rolled out of the back of the truck and sprayed the front seat of the car with bullets while two more men ran to the car and jerked the door open, pulling Garrison from his seat.

While the Major peered over the back of the front seat of his car his prisoner was dragged across the intersection and forced to his knees on the river bank. The men that had intercepted his car gathered around him, and after shouting about 'traitors' and 'collaborators' one of the men brought his pistol up and put a bullet in the man's head. Two of them used their boots to lever the body into the swift current of the river and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared. The Major waited a moment to be certain he'd been left alone and then he cautiously made his way across the road and gazed down river. The bank was steep here and the river ran fast and deep. There was no sign of the man he had hoped to deliver to Berlin, but as he turned back towards the car he patted the pocket of his tunic, at least he had an accounting of what the man had told him.

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Six days later Jackman was interrupted in a meeting with the terse message… "We got him, sir." After bringing the discussion to a close and seeing the men out of his office he turned to the phone and got the particulars on where the young man was. _Ward three of the hospital, under guard…_ 'Well,' he thought to himself, 'that seems to fit a pattern.' The general instructed his aid to cancel the afternoon meetings and have his driver pick him up at the front of the building.


	5. Chapter 5

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"Where did your man capture him?"

"About three blocks from headquarters, sir."

"Sergeant, do you really think a man trying to escape would be headed in that direction?"

"We had our orders, sir."

"I'll just bet you did. You and your men are dismissed, Sergeant." Major General Jackman raised his hand to his shoulder and tapped the stars that sat there as the sergeant started to object. "I find it hard to believe that the man who gave you your last set of orders regarding your 'prisoner' is carrying a brace of these around, Sergeant. _Dis_missed!"

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It was another long hour before the doctors finished and Garrison was moved to a room. Jackman was allowed in but cautioned not to try and wake the patient. The sister giving him his orders was very firm about them, telling him in no uncertain terms that she would have him removed if he felt the need to test her. Using his very best southern 'Yes, ma'am, No, ma'am', he assured her he had no intention of crossing her… As the door closed behind her he thought there'd be no need for guards in the hospital area at all, if all of the staff was as tuff as that one, and was glad she hadn't been issued a weapon. His attention shifted back to the bed as the youngster in it groaned when he tried to shift his position.

There were new bruises on the face the general studied, faded by a few days. He knew the old welts under the bandages had broken open again and a few cracked ribs had been added, and he sported a thick padded bandage over his ear where it looked like a bullet had come just a little too close, and dressings covered bruised abraded wrists. But the worst damage had been inflicted here when the young man had been recaptured by his own side. According to the report Jackman had been given Lieutenant Garrison had turned to resist when ordered to halt by the MP who spotted him on the street in civilian clothes. A little one on one discussion with the MP revealed that he'd fallen prey to the rumors circulating about the rouge Lieutenant being a sleeper, a German plant sent in to achieve a position of trust and then wreak havoc by assassinating senior officers in the secret commando organization. Jackman had no doubt the man was only fulfilling what he believed to be his duty to protect his command officers when he drove the bayonet into Garrison's chest.

The doctors had given him a full report. The wound was clean and the lung hadn't been damaged as the blade slid between his ribs, though enough of a hole had been left to cause it to collapse. The kid had lost enough blood to be of some concern, as it was still in such short supply. But he'd been assured that, and they were fairly firm about this, '_if the Lieutenant might be allowed to stay out of the fray long enough to recover from one injury before he were permitted to collect another one,_' he'd make a full recovery. Jackman leaned back and laughed to himself over that as he watched Garrison try to convince his eyes to open. The Brits were always such gentlemen when they were telling you how much of an ass you were. He reached out and caught the youngster's hand as he groped the bandages in an effort to figure out just what had happened to him. "At ease there, son. You pull something open you're going to get me in big trouble with a very dangerous sister."

That's all he needed. Garrison latched onto the voice and followed it back through layers of drugs. When he opened his eyes the light from the lamp caused him to wince and turn away. The figure on the chair leaned forward immediately and relief followed the sharp snap as the instrument of torture was turned off. The next time he tried to open his eyes it was easier, but Craig still couldn't make out who was in the room with him. Since he didn't have the energy to ask, he put off his questions for another time.

"Mission accomplished, Lieutenant?" Jackman asked quietly.

'Ah,' he thought, 'that's who it is.' Craig struggled to collect his strength. This would come out better if he could manage not to slur his words. "Yezur, missuhncuplesh." It seemed rude of General Jackman to snort a laugh, but at least he'd gotten that over with easy enough. He waited for the man to quiet down so he wouldn't have to use the extra breath it would require to make himself heard, and concentrated on making one general out of the two that were rising up next to his bed. "Zur?" He still couldn't seem to control his tongue.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"There wuz n' easer way."

Jackman cleared his throat before he answered, and as he was currently in the crosshairs of an extremely irritated hospital sister, he chose his words very carefully as he moved away from the bed. "I'm sure there was, Lieutenant. And as soon as the doctors give me permission, I'll be right back here to get your views on the subject." As he sidled out past her Jackman thought he probably hadn't been stared down like that since his grandmother had found out it had been him who let that jar full of lightning bugs loose in her house the summer he spent with her, not his five year old cousin Adele…. And he'd been all of seven then!

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Jackman hadn't been allowed back for two days. He had to content himself with a full investigation of the mission leading to the assault that brought Lieutenant Garrison to his attention. It hadn't taken much to convince the 'injured' party to drop the charges. Feelings were still running high against the young man though, and those damn rumors seemed to have sprouted wings. Half the unit was still convinced he was a plant and couldn't be trusted and the general was having to investigate steps to counter that as well.

When he walked in he found Garrison on his feet by the window. He looked a little shopworn and unsteady on those feet, but did his best to greet the general more or less upright. The second bed that had been in the room had been removed at Jackman's request and a table had been brought in for this little conference of theirs. The doctors had cleared them for two hours and he had no doubt there was a female standing right outside the door with a stop watch. Pulling the wooden chair out for himself and taking a seat he left the fancy leather job for a surprised Lieutenant… Jackman figured the wheels would make it easier to roll the kid over so he could dump him in bed if they cut it too close.

"Well, Garrison. Let's hear those ideas of yours."

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"Sir, I'm telling you, it'll work!"

"Let me get this straight. You figure you could've just waltzed in and substituted the information?"

"No, sir. I couldn't have done it. But the people with the right training and experience could." He was pacing himself, if he tried to talk too fast, or too loud he ended up coughing and that brought a visit from the floor sister.

"And those people would be….."

"People who break into safes, sir" Garrison said carefully, "and people who reproduce other peoples writing,,, sir."

"And we would find these 'experts' where?" Jackman was beginning to get the idea, he just didn't think he could believe it.

"Uh, where they keep people like that, sir…."

"Prison."

"Yes, sir."

"Good Gawd, Garrison," Jackman snorted a laugh and pushed up out of the chair. "They tried to tell me you were crazy, and I knew you must have had more than one screw loose to volunteer for this outfit, but this is the most wild ass scheme I've ever heard."

_Damn! _Craig mentally kicked himself as he levered out of the chair and headed back for the bed. He'd lost him….he thought he'd played Jackman along until he'd see the possibilities in the idea, but he'd turned his hand too soon, and he'd lost him. All that time down the drain. Well, if that was the case, then he was too damn tired to continue this little debate, and General Jackas… ..Jackman could just go find someone else to laugh at. Groaning as he finally managed to get horizontal he thought that time must have stopped. This was the longest damn two hours he'd ever spent in his life, and that included certain, recent encounters with German Intelligence. Where in the hell was that sister when he needed her?

Jackman rested back against the window sill and watched the young officer stretch out and close his eyes. There wasn't an air of defeat about him, disgust, maybe, he thought, but not defeat. The general was sure as soon as he'd gathered his strength again, the mad lieutenant there, would be off pitching his idea to some other unwary soul…. And as he thought about it Jackman found his fingers itching to get hold of all the information in those safes over there…. He chewed his lower lip and let his imagination wander. It had some merit when you thought about it… By the time he'd jerked himself back to reality the Lieutenant was peacefully asleep and the sister was staring daggers at him from the door and tapping her watch. "Yes, ma'am! I was just leaving." and as he made his way past her he put on his best cotillion smile. His grandmother insisted he'd come up needing those genteel airs one day, it was time to prove her right or wrong. "Would you please tell Lieutenant Garrison I'll be back to see him in the morning…. With your permission, ma'am?"

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"I don't believe this! This is _not_ what I signed up for" Garrison caught the raised eyebrow, "sir."

"Oh really, Lieutenant? I thought you signed up to become an officer in the Army of the United States of America. Since you took the trouble to apply for, and survive, West Point, I also thought you had some idea of making that a career." Jackman let the young man pace the hospital room a few moments. "In case you missed them, let me explain the rules to you, Lieutenant. You're just a little officer, I'm a big one. When I give you an order, you don't object to it, you say, very nicely… 'Yes, sir, and just how high would you like me to go, sir?'"

Jackman saw the light of evil come into Garrison's eye. His daily meetings with the Lieutenant along with a review of his file had revealed a formidable young man. His mind was working the angles all the time, sifting through facts, making plans which, once made could be carried out with ruthless efficiency, or changed with a pirouette that would do an angel dancing on the point of a pin proud. Confident enough in his own abilities he wasn't afraid to seek expertise and information from others, once he had it he certainly wasn't afraid to reject it and follow his own path. He was flexible enough to accept his superiors orders, and then carry them out using his own methods, even if that required a certain amount of _creativity_ when it came time to explain just how he had managed his success. General Jackman enjoyed matching wits with him, and he appreciated the youngster's highly honed sense of the ridiculous, but sometimes he despaired of his ability to make his way in this man's Army…. He just didn't get it.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" He might as well just get it over with. "You have a question?"

"Yes, sir. You said 'rules,' as in plural…" Craig's mouth quirked up in a smile. "I only heard one, sir."

"Oh yes! Did I forget?" The General pulled at his ear in exasperation. "You show some of your God given common sense, and you _do not _ask 'Would you care to kiss my ass while I'm up here, sir?'" Jackman leaned back and took a deep breath, if he laughed now he'd lose all control over this meeting. "Good Gawd, Garrison, give an old man a break. You still have half the section here convinced you're going to crawl up a drainpipe and murder them in their beds, and the rest out for whatever bounty the pools have laid on your head. Boy, you have to get out of here."

"Then send me back over to the continent, sir. There's still a lot that needs to be done over there."

"And there's just as much that needs to be done in North Africa." Jackman threw up his hand to stave off the argument. "All joking aside, Craig, you are not being given an option. You will go over there as ordered, and you'll stay over there until, and unless, someone sees fit to recall you."

Garrison just fixed him with one of those looks before he relented and nodded his understanding as he settled himself on the bed.

'Damn!' He thought, 'finally!' Jackman was sure his own sons had never given him this much trouble. Then he thought a little harder and cleared his throat… No they hadn't ever give _him_ this much trouble. They'd saved that for others, he had the reports from the poor commander Howard had nearly driven to distraction in the bottom of his desk drawer back home. That kid had grown so comfortable living in hot water he told him once, he carried his old set of Lieutenants' bars around in his pocket, just in case someone took exception to one of his wild ideas and broke him back. He'd finally made it through to Major, but Jackman was certain the Captains' bars were in his son's jacket pocket, just in case. Jackman laughed to himself, he should find a way to have his mad young friend here assigned to his son instead, it would serve them both right.

"They have German's over there Lieutenant, and they have 'lines'. I promise, you'll get your chance to get behind them while you wait for our boys to get there. Til then you're assigned to one of the British units."


	6. Chapter 6

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"This is a pilot program Garrison. Make it work and there will be more groups trained and sent in. As soon as we have enough men on the project we'll cut you loose."

"But, sir! I never meant me! I just pitched the idea….." The argument was expected, but the force behind the words was still weak.

"Proves the old saying, doesn't it Lieutenant?" Jackman dropped the stack of folders on table in front of Garrison.

"Sir?"

"Be careful what you wish for…" As he moved behind him towards the door, Jackman patted Garrison's shoulder. "Get to it, son, the doctors have only given you two hours this first time out of bed. Try and find a couple of men you think might watch your back for you. I'll be back later to collect your 'possibles', " And I'll be somewhere safe, he thought as he closed the door behind him, if I read you right and that ward sister comes back in two and a _half _hours and you're hooked on this project and totally absorbed in your work.

Craig stared at the door as it swung closed. "What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" Well, the faster he got to it, the faster he'd get through it. 'Thank you, Sergeant Holke,' he thought and brought his hand up in a quick salute. He opened the first folder and scanned the first page, 'Reject,' he thought, 'amateur caught his second time out.' He sailed the folder off into the corner of the room. The second one followed, and the third. Snorting in disgust he picked up the fourth folder and scanned it……. Hmm. Con artist? He hadn't thought of that. It took him into the second page to reject this one, no languages. Picking up the next folder with a little more anticipation he consoled himself with the thought that it was a pretty big stack and he'd only just gotten started.

By the time he finished it was dark outside and he was stiff and sore from sitting at the table so long. General Jackman would be pleased, he had eighteen strong possibilities and six back ups. He'd even limped over and retrieved the folders he'd tossed on the floor when he'd come across other skills he hadn't thought of himself. If the old man had come up with this bunch he had more to him than he was giving up. Craig straightened his stacks and made his way over to the bed to stretch out. Funny, they'd been pretty strict with him since they'd hauled his battered backsides over from North Africa. Maybe someone finally figured out what he'd been trying to convince them of all along, that he wasn't as badly damaged as they tried to tell him he was. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to lay out flat. 'Wasn't your brightest idea to stay hunched over like that so long.' He chided himself and spread his hand over the place in his side where the shrapnel had so recently been removed.

The piece that had burrowed itself in the muscle below his ribs hadn't been much trouble, but the one that buried itself just below that in the bone of his pelvis had caused the doctors all kinds of grief and they'd elected to leave it where it was until wiser heads could attend to it here in England. After the fact, and after having it all explained to him Garrison could certainly understand the decision. But even though they'd trussed him up in a pretty creative brace to keep him from moving, the trip back had hurt like hell. These first few days after the surgery hadn't been a whole lot of fun either, since no one was around and he was being honest with himself. And, even though they promised him that it was still early, and it would fade away with time, he could still feel just where they'd dug that damn hunk of metal out of him, every time his heart beat.

Craig shifted again and tried to get comfortable. That's what Jackman had used to spring his trap on him… told him reviewing 'candidates' would keep his mind off the pain. Well, he'd been right, it had certainly worked for the last few hours but he was paying the price for it now. Just like he and his men paid the price for him being sent over there in the first place, he thought as his memory took over again. He'd gotten his command experience alright, just like everyone told him he had to, to be ready for what was coming in Europe. He'd plotted and planned and sent his men into danger, and written the letters home for the ones who'd gotten themselves blown to hell. Giving him a chance to perfect his troop killing technique they assigned him a batch of replacements and sent him out on the line during a German push. He must have done a better job that time, only two of them made it back. Grayson was walking wounded and he'd been scraped up off the sand and shipped back over here. Someone told him he took out a German machine gun nest, he couldn't remember any of it. And he'd found in his still limited but growing experience with the military medical community that the only thing that admitting that sort of thing got you was an extra week or two in the hospital. 'Well,' he thought 'what they didn't know wouldn't hurt him….

'Thank you, Sergeant Holke' Craig smiled to himself, he didn't realize how useful he'd find all of those irritating little homilies. At least it had lifted him out of his melancholy mood for a moment. He tipped the Hulk an imaginary nod.

The doctors told him that would go away too, leftovers from a concussion. Garrison thought it probably had more to do with sending men out to get themselves killed for no apparent reason other than to buy a piece of real estate. Yeah, he knew the theory behind it, he'd taken the classes and he could actually understand that sometimes you had to pay a high price to gain a foothold. Well, they'd paid it, and they held onto that little patch of sand for exactly one week before its strategic value was 're-explored' and the Army withdrew without looking back. The Germans hadn't shared the new opinion and came right back and took that ground again and harried the supply lines as the division tried to move up. The whole bloody ordeal had to be played out again, without him at least, he snorted in disgust. By that time he was blissfully unaware in a drug induced haze on a hospital transport headed for England.

Garrison drew in a sharp breath and twisted to get away from the pain… 'Damn!' He thought, 'speaking of drugs…' Generally he didn't like the stuff but he supposed it had its merits. Just as he reached to push the call button the door opened and the sister breezed in.

"Oh my, Lieutenant, we haven't done our best by you today, have we?" She eyed the stacks of folders on the table suspiciously and bustled over to fluff the pillow. "You've missed your supper I'm afraid, and the kitchens are closed, but I've got a little emergency stash put by if you're feeling a bit peckish."

"No, ma'am I don't think I could eat anything, but…." Craig looked at her in confusion. Something wasn't right here, but he couldn't figure out just what it was.

"I'll wager you're getting more than a wee bit uncomfortable." she pulled the watch pinned to her shoulder up and gave a little squeak of distress. "Land of Mercy! It's three hours past time for your pain shot." Fixing him with a exasperated stare she asked. "What possessed you? Why didn't you ring?"

'There we go!' He thought, 'that's more like it.' He was still having a hard time keeping the nurses straight but this one he remembered. She'd just come on last night and, eager to talk with someone from home, had told him all about how she'd come over from the states in '39 and been working there ever since. He reached out and caught her by the wrist as she turned away to go retrieve the drug tray. "Hey, what's with the phony British accent? Didn't you tell me you were from Oregon?"

Giving a little laugh she twisted free, "Oh that! It helps keep General Jackman in line. Sister says he's afraid of the British nurses."

Garrison gave her a skeptical look but assured her. "Well, I'll keep your secret for you when I see him tomorrow, but don't say anything where he can hear you." He thought she'd find it funny, but she just stood there and looked at him. "I'm sorry, but you really need to work on your accent."

"You don't know, do you?" Her comment must have echoed back to her because half a second later she shook herself. "Of course you don't know…. That's why everything got so fouled up."

Craig had a sinking feeling. "What happened?"

"Well, General Jackman, he had another heart attack." She watched what little color the Lieutenant had evaporate into thin air. "Oh M'God! You're not some kind of relative are you? I mean. I know he's been spending a lot of time in here but, but…"

"No, nothing like that. Is he alright?" At her hurried nod Garrison rolled up to sit on the side of the bed. "I've got to see him, where is he?"

"He's fine, he fine! …Oh no you don't!"

It was almost laughable, he thought, she'd spread her arms wide and fallen into a crouch between him and the door. "Just what do you suppose you're going to do?"

Reaching forward to pluck the call button off the bed she stared defiantly back at him. "I'm going to call the orderly and then I'm going to get your medication, Lieutenant."

"Listen, sister, don't try that on me. I can read that clock you have pinned on the front of you even if it is upside down. I know what staffing is like in these places at this time of night. You could push that button from now 'til doomsday and nobody would come. In fact I'd wager you're the only one out there tonight." She'd let a little flicker of concern cross her face at that. Craig had a little insider information from one of the dayshift nurses, the census was down, she'd nearly ruined his lunch complaining about how the second shift would be able to let a couple of the regulars stay home tonight.

"Now lets you and me just make a little deal here. I'm going to go see for myself that General Jackman is OK. It'll go a whole lot faster if you play along and come up with a cane, or a pair of crutches or something, and give me a clue of where to look. Otherwise, I promise you, I'll drag myself to every door in the hallway for a quick look around, and when I finish on this floor I'll start on the next one." It didn't take long to stare her down. He was better at it than she was, he'd had more practice.

"Oh! For goodness sake!" Turning away with an irritated shake of her head she disappeared out the door.

'hmmm.' he thought. 'That might have been a mistake… She could be out there phoning for reinforcements.' He pushed himself off the bed and limped slowly towards the door. For once he didn't mind his less than agile gait. If he'd been any faster she'd have knocked him flat when she backed through the door with the wheelchair.

"All right! Get in!" she ordered. As soon as he'd carefully folded himself into the contraption she pulled the blanket off the bed and tossed it across his lap. "Now let's just get one thing straight. I've read your chart, Lieutenant. And I've seen just how fast you can get around. I don't figure you'll be any faster getting out of this thing that you were getting in. So now that you _are_ in it, I figure _I'm_ pretty much in control here." She watched his eyes narrow. "Didn't think of that, did you?!"

He looked up at her, cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Ma'am. No, ma'am?" Nope, that wasn't gonna work…. Garrison shifted in the chair, took a hissing breath in, leaned forward and pressed his hands down on the dressing over his hip.

"Oh, come on! I've been waiting for that one!….." after a moment of silence she dropped down next to the chair. "Hey, you're not pulling a fast one on me, are you?" Their argument had brought the color back to his cheeks but it was certainly gone now.

She had to wait for her answer. He lowered his chin further onto his chest, opened his eyes and cut her a look along his shoulder before shrugging. "Well, not much of one, anyway." Then he winced and grabbed his side as he straightened in the chair too quickly and set the pain off again.

"OOooo! God save us all from idiots!" Craig had to hang on to the arms of the chair as she swung him around so she could back out the door into the hall. "Let's get this over with! I checked with his private duty nurse and she's probably wondering where we are."

He'd nearly gotten friction burns when he grabbed the wheels and brought them to a halt again. "What?!" They struggled there a moment, but this time he had the upper hand… it was a bit blistered, but he had it.

A moment later she'd stalked around in front of the chair and stood glaring down at him, both fists firmly planted on her hips. "What's the problem now, buster? And keep your voice down. You aren't the only one in this hospital, remember?"

"Could you explain to me, please," he asked in the most reasonable voice he could muster, "why you felt the need to check with General Jackman's private duty nurse?"

She looked at him like he was, indeed, an idiot. "Well, to make sure he was awake, of course. He's been drifting in and out all shift. I wanted to make sure he was awake and still wanted to see you before I ….. I came and got…" She put her hand up and giggled. "Uh oh."

"I think I have just been had."

She laid a consoling hand on his shoulder before she started them moving down the hall again. "Honest, Lieutenant, I had my orders."

"I'll just bet you did."

They came to a halt at the end of the hall and she stuck her head in the door before swinging him around to back him through. Rolling him up to the side of the bed she retreated to the corner where the other nurse sat keeping watch.

"How are you feeling, sir?"

General Jackman studied the young man sitting in the wheelchair and was pleased. He was still pale and weak, he still had a long way to go before he'd fully recover from the wounds he'd received in that mortar attack in Africa,,, but he'd definitely been roused out of his slump.

Jackman had made it a point to keep tabs on his young friend over the months. He'd been instrumental in putting him in the program in the first place. Finding him in England had been a shock that eventually turned into a pleasure when the relationship blossomed into friendship. He'd been concerned with the young man's life and his career since then. When his reputation suffered from his altercation with Byrns, and the word came out of Germany that any commando captured there was to be executed on the spot, he took steps to preserve both by having him transferred to North Africa. The Allies were already there, the US was on its way and he knew Garrison's talents wouldn't be wasted. He knew they'd be sending him behind the lines over there just like they did in Europe, that was a given, but if he could survive until their own troops were in place he'd finally get some of the command experience he would need if he was going to make the Army a career… Working alone would never get him the recognition he'd need for advancement.

From the reports that came back the Lieutenant had done a good job, and he was being considered for captain's bars when his group got blown to bits in that mortar attack. Jackman was there when they brought him off the hospital transport, he talked to the doctors and he sat in the waiting room during the long surgery. Garrison didn't realized just how close he'd come to the end of his life. One of those little pieces of shrapnel had twirled around an artery and the doctors had the devils own time disentangling it without letting it sever the vessel so the young man could bleed to death.

When he'd come out of the anesthesia the pain of both the injury and the men he had lost was evident. Their usual sparing wasn't bringing him out of it, he didn't even rise to the bait. When he showed a flicker of interest when Jackman told him his little harebrained scheme was going to be given a chance the general seized on that and decided to let him help choose the men they'd be interviewing for the different positions. But even that didn't seem to be able to keep the ghosts a bay for long. The doctors continued to tell him that the young man would have to work through it himself, and Jackman agreed, he just didn't agreed to how long he had to get himself back on his feet. So when he had his own little set back he'd known it would pull the boy out, by the roots, and he used it. He was glad to see it had the effect he'd hoped for.

"Oh, a little tired, I guess. Not nearly as bad as they tell me I should feel."

Garrison nodded, and considered the General from his position in the chair, he could relate to that. "I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Jackman watched him from his bed. "Something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

There were a lot of things on his mind, concern for this man who had become his mentor and friend over the last several months, right there at the top of the list. Some how they'd managed to become friends, across generations and across the barrier of rank. Through intermittent contact over months they managed it. Their personalities seemed to click and they were almost instantly attuned and able to read one another and play off each other. The concern for each was manifest in the other's eyes, although it was never spoken, that just wasn't the way things worked. You didn't fall to your knees by the bed of a friend and worry over their condition. If it was improving you rejoiced in your own heart and kept it to yourself, if it was deteriorating you needled the other until they rose out of the depths of depression, illness or injury to strike at the bait and turn onto the path of recovery.

Unfortunately the General wouldn't take kindly to being questioned on the seriousness of his condition, Garrison would have to get that out of the nurses later. "Your little conspirator slipped up and spilled her guts to me in the hallway." Craig eyed the older man a moment before asking "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

The General Jackman leaned back into the pillows and laughed "Garrison I enjoy our one on one encounters, but you do tend to wear me out. Melanie just gave you a chance to run off some of that extra energy so I could handle you." Jackman studied the young man a moment. And you were more than a little despondent my young friend, he thought, and I figured I could do something about that. Might as well make the best use out of these damn little heart attacks if I'm going to have them.


	7. Chapter 7

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Three weeks later Garrison rang the General's quarters as soon as he finished with Colonel Manners. He really hadn't expected General Jackman to be back behind his desk yet and hadn't asked about him during the briefing. When there'd been no answer he'd gone back and requested another quick meeting with his section head. After he'd let the information sink in a moment he requested permission to check out a jeep and head for the hospital in London. Another heart attack Manners said, one the General wouldn't be coming back from. If it had been a wound it would have been 'golden.' Jackman was headed home.

"You get the ones you want?" The eyes that considered him as he lay there in his bed were anxious for him but the face had quickly been schooled into a mask of friendly neutrality. Jackman thought the Lieutenant there had probably hunted down a doctor or two before he'd found his way in here. Well, that would save him the trouble of giving him all the details and they could get down to what would probably be one of their last visits together before they kicked him out of here and turned him out of this man's Army.

"Yes, sir. I believe I did." He's old, Craig thought, how in the hell did he get old in just twenty-one days?

"They let you bring them back over with you?" He didn't even try and hide the eagerness in his voice. He'd played a part in getting this ball rolling and he dearly wanted to at least see it hit the first lever.

"No, sir. That wasn't possible." But he'd break any rule in the book to get them in here to meet this man, or him out to take a look at them while they worked through the short intense course of training before they took off on their first mission. "They have to get through all their shots first. They're to ship over in ten days."

"Damn." The general turned his face away and pulled at an earlobe. " I thought I might still be around to get a look at them."

Garrison's heart sank. "You got your marching orders?"

"I did indeed." Jackman said in disgust, "Garrison, they are officially putting me out to pasture. My participation in this little to-do is no longer required."

Jackman had been active all his life. He'd gone into the Army as a young man of seventeen, he didn't know anything else. He'd never considered leaving the service, he'd told Garrison, figuring to go out 'in a blaze of glory.' As he'd gotten older he'd changed his view of the perfect end to a military career, explaining that, '...that blaze of glory stuff just means you take a lot of other, probably innocent people along with you when you go.' Now all he hoped for was a day filled with important decisions and a good night's sleep that he never woke up from.

"Maybe it won't be so bad, sir…retirement."

The older man snorted a laugh "Retirement,,, sounds like something old ladies do when they need a little lie-down. And son, the way they have mine planned out it will be,,, bad." Jackman frowned his displeasure. "First stop for me is going to be in some hospital in Atlanta to play guinea pig for a damn doctor doing 'research' for the Army. Seems he's come up with a way to take pictures of where the blood goes when it's traveling around the heart, and they are just certain they have to have that information to tell what's wrong with me. I can tell them that without the pictures…. Blood needs to advance through the heart Lieutenant, and too much of mine has gone into retreat." The General took a moment's rest before he continued. "Then when they're done figuring that out they'll hand me my hat and a damn shawl, and invite me to go sit on the porch and drink tea, or buttermilk or something that won't be bourbon, while the rest of the world marches on past me."

"But you'll be with your family, sir, surely that will…"

"Garrison. My oldest boy shuttles back and forth for Eisenhower, I got to see him while you were over there visiting prisons. Warren was here when this happened" Jackman tapped his chest, "and has gone home to 'make all the arrangements'. Good Gawd you'd think he was getting ready for a dance,,, or a funeral. Howard, the younger one's still God knows where over in North Africa. Their wives are busy raising up their kids. And I've been on the move so much their kids, my grandchildren probably couldn't pick me out of crowd if I wasn't wearing my uniform. Be assured they are not going to let me do that anymore. You don't just drop a strange man on a child and tell him it's 'grandpa,' boy, it doesn't go over well."

Jackman took another moment to rest and took a deep breath before he launched off again. "And my wife, bless her, about ten years ago her mind started to wander. A year before this whole mess started it just sort of wandered away and never came back. She's been in a home ever since. The girls go out to 'do' for her and check to see if she needs anything. She's happy enough there I suppose, but she hasn't got a clue who they are, or who she is for that matter. I went out and saw her when I was in the States four months ago. She didn't know me either. In fact, according to the doctors, I frightened her. So it has been suggested that I not come again, and I'll abide by their suggestion. It is what I'm paying them for, after all. Unfortunately that means Warren'll have to find a different home for me, across town somewhere, so I don't come up on her unexpected and scare the poor women into some kind of a fit." Jackman caught the look Garrison was giving him. "Don't look at me like that, boy. We've been married a long time and we've had a good life together, but after the grandchildren started coming she didn't really care if I was home or not."

"Sir, I think you are getting tired." And depressed, he thought, and I ought to be able to come up with a little cure for that.

"Lieutenant, I believe you are right." Jackman leaned back in the bed, he got winded now, not something that pleased him very much, especially faced with this young man. "Not only am I getting tired, I am getting old. And I'm becoming maudlin in my old age. You wouldn't care to spring one of your crazy ideas on me to shake me out of it would you?"

"Actually General, if another ten or fifteen minutes wouldn't do you in. I'd like to talk something through with you."

"Gawd! Not another stint as your sounding board?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Maybe I misunderstood you when you asked if I'd care…"

"…care to spring one of your crazy ideas on me? Go ahead Lieutenant I think I can handle it one more time."

"I'm sure you can General. But as the doctors have assured me that, while I have made excellent progress in my own recovery, they don't feel that I'm quite up to loosing any blood just yet… And as I have been the recipient of daggers being thrown from the corner for the last five minutes, I'd like you to call your guard dog off. If you wouldn't mind, sir."

"Melanie." Jackman leaned forward so he could see around Garrison into the corner. "I don't think another fifteen minutes is going to make a damn bit of difference one way or the other, do you?…. Just nod sweetly girl and go along with me, that's what I'm paying you for."

"General Jackman. Until we get stateside and you are discharged from the hospital to home, _you_, sir, are not paying me." She'd been baiting him on and off all morning and he hadn't risen to it. It was good to see a little of the old spark back in his eye. "But, in answer to your question, no sir, I don't think another fifteen minutes will matter. As long as you two don't get into one of your arguments." She shot a glance at the Lieutenant to reinforce the warning. "And I'm going to be right outside the door, keeping an eye on the time."

As soon as the door closed behind her Craig turned and asked in disbelief. "You're not really going to take her back with you?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jackman shrugged, a moment later he continued. "You know Garrison, I think there's something fundamentally wrong with you! I've done my best to throw that girl at you at every opportunity and you haven't made a move on her yet. What's wrong with you, boy?"

"Well, considering it's none of your damned business, sir," Garrison grinned. "and as far as I've been told, absolutely nothing…" He leaned in and lowered his voice  
"There is one little problem."

"Go on, you have my permission to speak freely… not that you've ever needed it."

"She's married, sir." Craig smiled.

"What?" The general sat back stunned. " How'd you find that out?"

"Advanced recon techniques, sir." Garrison snorted a laugh "I asked her. And the ring's a dead giveaway."

"Ring? She doesn't wear a ring!" Surely the boy was pulling his leg.

"You're right, sir, she doesn't… at least not while she's on duty. But if you'd taken her out to dinner, sir, like I have, you'd have seen it. Right there, right on her finger. And if you'd been paying close attention, and this is the giveaway sir, because anyone can slip on a ring. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed that on her finger, where that ring usually sits, there's a nice neat pale band of skin right where the gold covers it from the sun when she _is_ wearing it."

"Well, I'll be damned." There was a time he _had_ noticed things like that, Jackman thought.

"Now, sir, we only have ten minutes left, would you like to give me your opinions on a couple of things?" Craig pulled the photographs and blueprints out of the briefcase he'd brought with him and laid them on the bed within Jackman's reach.

"Lieutenant, I'd be happy to give you my opinions, but after a royal screw up like you just pointed out to me" Jackman raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, pushing the items on the bed out of their neat stack so he could pick the most interesting one out, he came up with a hand drawn map of the grounds of a large manor house. "I'm not so sure you'd be advised to give them any notice."

"Oh, come on General, this one's easy I just need to come up with a few tests for my little band of experts…."


	8. Chapter 8

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Garrison sat on the steps and read the letter again. He checked the date. It hadn't taken all that long to get here, she must have found a mailbag sitting on the dock waiting to be loaded on board for the return voyage back from New York. Most of the time had been taken tracking him down here in England. She didn't have a contact address for him, she didn't expect to need it, so she'd sent the letter to the hospital knowing they'd find him some how.

**_I'm sorry Craig. He didn't make it. The night before we were supposed to dock he just went to sleep and he didn't wake up in the morning. There wasn't anything we could do. The Army is taking care of notifying his family, but I knew you'd want to know. _**

**_Melanie_**

He'd told him to try and pick a couple of men he thought he could depend on to watch his back. Seemed he'd gotten a few of those sprinkled in his life, they just showed up on their own. Collin and the others he went through training with... There were only the two of them left now, and he didn't know where Wade was. Colonel Catron who'd suggested him for the program in the first place, and then seen them through their first assignments. And one Lieutenant General Jackman himself, who'd been there from the beginning, before he'd been anything more than a misfit cadet with an interesting background.

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"Give you a lift to the airfield, sir?" The jeep pulled to a stop at the foot of the steps and the British Sergeant Major who'd been assigned to help train the men sat waiting for him.

"Thank you, Sergeant Major." Garrison pushed up onto his feet and slid the letter into the pocket of his jacket before settling himself in the vehicle. "I believe I'll take you up on that."

"I saw you taking a last look around, sir. What do you make of it?" Rawlins hadn't wanted this assignment when it was first offered to him. But this Yank officer had a way of hooking people, playing on their interests. He'd told him the men would need an intense course of commando training before the first mission. Then, if they did well, and didn't get themselves killed, or skip off free as birds once they landed on French soil, which was what Rawlins thought would happen, he'd be in charge of getting them in shape and keeping them sharp for the jobs the military would dream up for them. Since he'd been invalided out of North Africa Gil had been itching to get back on the job. They weren't going to let him go back there so this was the next best thing.

The Lieutenant considered the building as they pulled away. "Well, the bars are in, the gates, alarms, the fence has been raised all around the perimeter." He fired off a quick salute as the barrier was raised and the vehicle waved through. "The guards clearly know their business.

"Thank you, sir." That would be another of his responsibilities, as well as acting as an aid to the Lieutenant

Garrison turned to study Rawlins as he drove. Might as well see what the man was made of he thought. "What do you think Sergeant Major Rawlins?"

"Sir, I think if that new lot of yours can't get off the grounds you're in a great deal of trouble." Gil considered that he might be in a great deal of trouble as soon as the men were handed over to him at the airfield, but he chose to keep that opinion to himself…for now.

"Oh, they'll get off the grounds, Sergeant. The question is, how long do you think it will take them?" Craig smiled at the look of surprise on the other man's face.

"Three days, sir? Three days after you get back from that first one and the shackles are off."

Garrison shook his head and caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth a moment. "Two"

"No, sir!" Rawlins countered with confidence. "They'll play it safe for a while and feel you out before they try anything."

"Care to wager on it?"

Interest lit the British non com's eye. "How much, sir?"

"Five pounds?" Garrison smiled as the Brit nodded his agreement "Alright, who's the stake holder?"

Rawlins down shifted as they made the tight turn on the road that ran through town "We can leave it here, sir, with the owner of the pub."

Craig had been in the comfortable little local before and had already met the man who ran it. "How much time before the plane arrives Sergeant Major?"

"A good hour yet, sir." Gil had let the jeep roll to a stop when the Lieutenant asked his question, they were still idling there in the road in front of the pub.

"Well, come on then. We might as well stop and give the man our money. I can show him their pictures too, my briefcase is in the back. We'll leave the number out at the mansion so he can call and tell us who's won."

"Sir?"

"Don't play the fool for me Sergeant." Garrison laughed and asked, "Just where do you think they'll head, for their first foray off the grounds?"

"But how'll the lads know the pub's here, sir? The orders _are _to transport them with the canvas sides on the truck down, sir." Rawlins pulled the jeep to a stop in front of the door to the public house.

"I read the orders Sergeant." Garrison assured his Sergeant quietly. "The sides will be down…. But I didn't see anywhere in those orders where it said the flaps on the back of the truck had to be tied closed. Did you?"

"But, sir," Rawlins said, shaking his head. "I'm sure that they were meant to say that."

"And I'm not so sure, Sergeant Major. So, since I'm not sure, I'm going to let a higher authority decide."

"Sir?"

"Well, since I haven't got express instructions to tie the back flaps closed, and I haven't got express instructions to roll them up and tie them out of the way, I'm going to just let them fall lose and.."

"..Let the wind decided. Yes, sir, I see what you mean."

"Thank you Sergeant, I thought you might."

"We're wasting time sir."

"You're right. Let's go in and give the man our money." Garrison dismounted the jeep and headed towards the entrance with the non com trailing along behind.

"You wouldn't want to increase the wager a bit, sir?"

"Are you that sure it will take them three days, Sergeant? You haven't installed any security measures that I don't know about out there, have you?"

"No, sir. Nothing like that, sir… I'm dropping my estimate to one day, sir."

"You can do that?" Garrison stopped with his hand on the door and shot Rawlins a look along his shoulder. "The wager's already been made."

The Sergeant smiled back at him. "Not until the money is in the stake holder's hand, sir"

"Are you certain about that?"

"Yes, sir. Quite."

"Not until then?"

"No sir."

"Sergeant Major Rawlins."

"Yes, sir."

"You are not an honorable man."

"Sorry, sir." Rawlins grinned. "I used to be, sir. Is the bet still on, sir?"

"Of course. I am an officer and a man of my word."

"You wouldn't like to knock the pins out of your estimate and take it down to, say a few hours?" Rawlins didn't want to take advantage. He thought he might get to like this young American officer. He was a bit green perhaps…but then the Americans hadn't been at this thing very long, had they?

"No, Sergeant." Garrison shoved the heavy wooden door open and called over his shoulder. "My bet stands as it is."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but _you_ didn't have any extra security measures that I don't know anything about put up out there. Did you, sir? ...Sir?"

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"Well, whadda ya think big shot?" Wheeler asked from where he slouched in the corner of the room. "Readin' people's s'pose to be your specialty, isn't it?"

"I can't understand why they would pair us with a career military officer." Actor was seated comfortably on the couch in the room. They'd been waiting for several minutes now and he wondered at the lack of strict military punctuality.

The little cockney burglar hunched his shoulders up and asked "Ow'd you know he's picked it for a living, then?"

"Because he went through the military academy." To the Englishman's questioning look the group's con man explained. "It is like the Army's university."

"You mean he's got a degree in followin' rules 'n regulations?" It was the first they'd heard from the quiet young Indian. He'd spent the flight over staring out his window and was leaning against the wall now gazing through glass and out across the airfield.

"Jeeze! That's just what we need," Casino started to pace. Being cooped up in that plane for so many hours had gotten on his nerves. And now they were stuck here, locked in this small room until their new warden came to pick them up. "Some second looey trippin' over a damn rule book while we're over there could get us all killed."

"First Lieutenant." Actor correct quietly

"What?"

"He's a _first_ lieutenant, not a second. I would try and remember that." he advised. "Some young officer's can be quite touchy about the difference."

"Swell! So what does that mean? He's been at it long enough they've taken the training wheels off?!" As far as Casino was concerned it was already a disaster. What was the Army thinkin' turning them over to some green, wet behind the ears kid of a lieutenant anyway?


End file.
